The Floating World
by drurie
Summary: After the War, those under the age of 21 who have participated are sent to a quiet white town in another dimension. Their memories have been removed to allow them to recuperate from 'mental trauma' and they lead magic-less lives. But of course, Harry's life will never normal. Huge changes are coming when two new residents appear. Drarry, very slight one-sided Blaise/Draco.
1. The White Summer

A/N: Another fic that has been sitting in my computer since 2011. It's one that I can see the end of though, so I decided to work on it too. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Tiny, bright suburban streets.

Harry loves their compactness and simplicity. He does hate how he can't remember life before this, though.

* * *

He lives in a presentable quaint house with a girl whose name is Ginny Weasley. He owns a little video game shop just slightly further down the street.

He doesn't know how the respectable amount of money in his bank account came about, and he doesn't really understand why he is living with the girl. He treats her as a casual friend. She's a little too strong-headed for his taste.

Then there are the two people whom he always shares a coffee during lunchtime. They're named Ron and Hermione. They aren't really his "friends", per se, but meeting them has always been a habit, for some reason. It's a part of his schedule, just like how three quarters of a minute in the morning is always dedicated to dabbing concealer over the odd lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

Harry loves working at his shop. Business is never brisk, but it's lovely to just sit on his chair and observe people. He knows all the faces and all the names.

Life passes slowly and the seasons drag.

* * *

There's a flurry of excitement over the town the next week. A newspaper has been delivered to every doorstep. It's something important; because the newspaper's never published unless something happens, and in tiny, bright suburbia, nothing much ever happens.

"Two new faces in town…" Ginny reads aloud to Harry as he makes the toast. He hums pleasantly at the news. Harry can't remember the last time he's met new people. It makes him feel just a little bit nervous, but he hopes they drop by his shop, anyway.

* * *

Harry whistles cheerily and plays one of his games without much effort. He eyes the neat rows of his shop with a pleased eye whenever the screen switches to the loading screen.

He has long ago given up trying to solve the mystery of how new stock appears. It just does. It's almost like magic. The thought always amuses him.

The bell over the glass door tinkles daintily, signaling his first customers- though he prefers to call them _visitors_, really- of the day. He turns the game off and swivels around, smiling, as usual. It cracks a bit as he feels his heart leap in surprise. It's the two new people.

"Hello, my name's Harry," he says cordially, anyway. He lifts his hand in anticipation of a handshake; which is taken.

He studies them with fascination. They look very different from each other, and certainly very different from everyone else in the tiny, bright suburbia. They both wear long-sleeved shirts. The first one who takes his hand is tall, well-built, and dark skinned. The second is much more slender, and he has the sharpest features and fairest hair and skin Harry's ever seen. His eyes glow like the town. Harry is fascinated.

He wants to talk to the second one, but before he can, the first one squeezes the upper arm of the second one gently, and leads him out. The second one follows. Before he leaves, he chances a glance backwards. He smiles, and it's a somewhat awkward expression for his face to hold. Still, it feels like a promise. Harry grins back.

* * *

It's very easy to lose track of the days. Harry hurriedly writes down a week's worth of dates into his little red notebook. It's mid-summer now. The streets shine even brighter and whiter. It's almost blinding at times.

He's very grateful for the air-conditioner in the shop, so he spends more and more time there. It's not like Ginny minds that he's barely home. Okay, sometimes he gets the sense that she might _like_ him, but he doesn't like her that way, and so that's that. Things are always just that simple.

The second one wanders into his shop now and then. He looks at the shelves and studies the games, but never buys anything. After a while, the first one will come to get him, and they leave without a word. Perhaps he just likes the air-conditioner, too, Harry muses absentmindedly.

Harry always wants to say something to him, but he can never think of anything.

* * *

Change unsettles Harry quite easily.

One day, the second one comes into the shop again. Instead of hovering around the shelves though, he walks to the counter and sits himself carefully onto the chair facing Harry. He places his hands on the glass surface of the counter and looks up at Harry, smiling.

Harry sucks in his breath. He settles himself onto his own chair and places his hands on the glass surface of the counter, as well. He really can't remember what he's supposed to say to someone unfamiliar. Does he ask for his name? Is that too personal?

The second one blends in perfectly with the glaring white outside. It's quite hard to see his outline; and trying to do so hurts Harry's eyes. He moves his hand forward without thinking and sets it over the second one's right hand to make sure he's real.

He has to be, because Harry feels soft, soft, soft, _warm _skin underneath his rougher palm, and sees cheeks light up with a pink fainter than the first discolourations of an autumn sky.

* * *

Harry thinks the first one likes the second one more than he should, because he always sniffs disapprovingly whenever he walks into the shop to see Harry's hand over the second one's hand. It makes Harry feel insecure, because he thinks he likes the second one quite a fair bit too. The second one never seems to notice though.

Harry's come to the conclusion that he likes the second one quite a fair bit, or at least more than he likes the others and Ginny, because he makes his heart pound so painfully whenever he's near. The day they first and finally speak, Harry thinks he might collapse.

"Hello, Harry," the second one says one day, his hand under Harry's as usual. His voice isn't as deep as most men's, but it isn't too unpleasant, as well.

"Um, ah, hello…" Harry finds himself trailing off, but the second one makes the save.

"Draco, I'm Draco," he chimes, nodding.

Draco laughs and flicks his right hand around so that he can fit his fingers into the spaces between Harry's fingers. Harry doesn't know what this motion means, and he doesn't know why his heart won't stop its erratic behavior. Draco doesn't know what it means too, when Harry asks him why they have changed the way they place their hands together. Harry wonders if Draco's heart beats as hard against his chest as his does whenever he's near. He wistfully hopes it does.

* * *

Draco tells Harry many things, many things about the little café that he and the first one have set up together. Or rather- Draco's lips twist in gentle confusion- adopted; the café appeared the morning they arrived, and it just sits there like it's meant for them. Harry nods eagerly and brings his face closer to Draco's. He tells him it's the same with his new stock and his shop. Draco stares back thoughtfully.

Draco invites him to have tea the next day at their café. Harry can't refuse.

For today, they play.

He invites Draco to join him behind the counter to play a game. _How about the customers?_- Draco asks worriedly, and it's a small thing but Harry feels so sappy and useless, melting completely at his concern. No one ever comes by much, Harry soothes.

Draco doesn't even know how to hold a video game controller properly. His pale fingers grasp its edges awkwardly, the wrong way around. Harry laughs, and reaches around from behind him and corrects the fault. His hands stay atop Draco's, fingers pressing the buttons that Draco clumsily misses during the game.

It's not until twenty minutes later that he realises that his body is pressing comfortably against Draco's lighter frame, and his head is lying on Draco's shoulders. Draco's too absorbed in the game to notice. Harry sighs quietly and nudges Draco more closely to him. He's spinning in an emotion he doesn't recall feeling before, and he really, really wants it stop, because it makes him want to kiss Draco so badly, Draco who's caught his heart like this quaint little suburb and its perpetual whiteness.

* * *

The next day, Harry finds himself a little too early at the café. He sits next to one of the tables outside awkwardly, his fingers slick with sweat from the heat and his anticipation.

It is then he sees the fault lines on the ground around the café. Minute cracks, but visible enough.

He whistles lowly in worry, but cuts himself off halfway as he hears footsteps pattering towards him.

Draco grins broadly and clutches a platter of brightly coloured food in his hands. The first one shadows behind him, scowling deeply.

"Hello, Potter," he snaps, crossing his arms.

Draco settles the plate down and turns around to look warningly at him, mouthing something furiously to the man.

"Sorry?" Harry muses on, oblivious, "My name is Harry."

The upper lip of the first one curls in distaste, "It's your _sur_name."

"Surname-?"

"Nevermind Blaise!" Draco yelps, running to place himself between them. He grabs Harry by the shoulders and ushers him out of the chair, "To your shop, to your shop…"

_Nevermind the tea_, Harry thinks, disappointed, but follows, nonetheless.

He hears Blaise storm back into the café and slam the door shut. As they stride hurriedly down the lane to Harry's shop, Harry realises with a little pang of horror that the crack lines around the café have grown deeper and wider.

* * *

"What was that?" Harry queries with wide eyes from his seat, watching Draco fiddle with his hair nervously. Draco sighs in response and jerks his hand irritably out of his hair.

"I- I don't know. Blaise has been going on and on about how we were all wizards- can you believe that!- and you were our saviour or something. And we fought in a war, which we won; but _They _think we've all been mentally scarred and _They_ sent us here to live in isolation," Draco blabs, twisting his fingers around each other. Harry finds himself unable to stand it, and he pulls Draco's hands apart to settle his atop his again.

"You don't believe that, do you?" Harry jests. If anything, he thinks, that Blaise guy is the mentally scarred and crazy one. _Magic!_ Who would have thought of that!

Draco stares at him straight in the eye, as if reprimanding him for not understanding the severity of the situation.

"As a matter of fact, I do; I do, because it explains everything that is happening here!" he whispers.

The temperature of the room drops to even lower than usual. Harry's breath quickens as he realises the little crack lines have found their way to the tiling of his shop.

"It's a lie," Harry shakes his head in fright, and takes his hand off Draco's quivering flesh.

"Oh?"

Draco's breaths are shallow and shaky as well.

"I need a break," Harry says, standing, trying to collect himself.

"See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow."

Draco leaves meekly, a cloud of distress obviously still obscuring his thoughts. Harry can't help but feel uneasy too. It seems that a piece of the atmosphere of the tiny suburbia has been taken away, and that the entire town, the entire system, is going to somehow collapse upon itself.

* * *

Harry sleeps fitfully that night.

He dreams of green lights and green eyes that turn into red. The red grows and grows before melting into torrents and streams of blood. He wades helplessly through the flood until it is past his waist and he has no choice but to swim in the ocean of iron. As he bursts out again to the surface to catch his breath, he bumps into the cold white body of Draco. The blond man's face lifelessly turns and Harry sees those once-bright grey eyes glazed over in sickness.

He awakes; screaming for the first time in his life, his scar feeling like it is trying to split his face apart.


	2. The Year's Midnight

A/N: I'm starting to realise that keeping characters in-character in this fic is starting to get a little difficult, so please allow some flexibility *hides*  
Thanks for reading!

* * *

"I heard you yell last night," Ginny says quietly as she butters her toast, "Fell off your bed?"

Harry opens his mouth to tell her about his _bad_ dream, but decides to shut it.

Nobody has _bad_ dreams here. He's not crazy like Blaise.

_Blaise_.

The cogs in his mind turn and a revelation washes over him.

Maybe Blaise is _sick_ with what plagued him last night. And now he was trying to pass around the whole town. Harry ignores Ginny's questions about his unfinished meal, downs his coffee and runs off to find Draco.

* * *

"Harry! I didn't expect to see you this early-"

"_Shush, _Draco, pack your bags and come live with me, quickly!"

Harry grabs his shoulders anxiously, squeezing them painfully as his heart rams against his chest out of joy at the very alive man in front of him, and out of fear of what could happen. Draco, however, simply winces in pain and shrugs him off with some difficulty. Harry stares at him, eyes wide open and his breath coming out in awkward puffs. His mind racks nervously under Draco's confused gaze, trying to explain his crazed state.

He takes a deep breath and attempts.

"Blaise is _infected_ with something, I don't know what it is but you need to…distance yourself from him."

Harry whacks himself hard mentally as his posture falters. He knows he sounds ridiculous; what more considering that his home was just five other houses away from Blaise and Draco's. He watches Draco's face carefully.

For some reason, the other man looks intrigued.

"How do you know that?" Draco asks slowly, carefully. Harry follows Draco's gaze as it falls thoughtfully to the slight cracks on the ground beneath them. Abruptly recalling his dream, Harry feels sick to his bones. His stomach swirls with the clamminess of vomit and suddenly the white sun doesn't seem so warm anymore.

"I had- I had a dream of green lights. And blood came after that. There was just so much of it-"

Both their breaths catch in their throats as the ground gives a little shudder, as if of disgust at Harry's words. The cracks nearest to them grow larger and deeper. Harry looks at Draco now with new-found determination.

"Only Blaise knows more than the rest of us, what with that business of giving me a _sur_name and his strange behavior," Harry says with vindictiveness he never knew he had. He isn't sure if it was just an illusion but it seems for a second then that the sunlight faltered again.

At that moment, he hears Blaise calling out for Draco from their house, loud voice clearing the air like a wretched bell. Harry doesn't even give time for Draco to do anything; he simply tugs at the thinner man's wrists and drags him back to his own house in a crazed sprint.

* * *

"Harry! Harry, let go of me!" Draco hisses in pain as Harry drags him forcefully up to his room and sits him down hard on the bed.

"Tell me everything Blaise said to you about magic."

"I already did yesterday! That we were all wizards-"

"Did he tell you how he knows this? For all we know, he could be a threat, a dark-"

Harry feels his scar throb again at the mention of _dark_. It seems that Draco feels the same twinge because Draco curls up at the sound of that word, his fists balling as his face scrunches up in agony.

Then he catches sight of Draco's left arm. There is a foul tattoo spattered over the white skin. A vicious looking skull with a snake spilling out of its mouth, seared in black on Draco. Harry's forehead suddenly pulses in hurt again at the sight of it and he staggers onto the ground, breathing hard. Struggling slightly with his words, he manages to say, "T-that doesn't look like you."

Draco unclenches his fists and stares back at Harry. His face is paler than Harry ever thought humanely possible. Despite his own dizziness, Harry manages to wave his arm to signal Draco to lie back down on the bed.

Watching Harry like a cat as he lays himself on his side, Draco carefully replies, "I don't understand it too. I don't like it. But Blaise has got one too."

_Is this some sort of physical manifestation of the dark plague Blaise carries?_

"A-and I've also been having dreams like yours. Red eyes and green lights, Blaise dreams of them too."

_Oh shit._

Harry draws his back straight up, on guard now.

"Where did you two come from before this? I never had the sense to ask before this, but nothing like this has _ever_ happened here before you two came along."

Draco blinks slowly and Harry can sense that he is hurt by his accusatory tone. He wants to reach out to calm Draco, but he holds himself back to see what Draco will do.

"I don't know, Harry. I was bathed in light when I was first conscious and I woke up in the middle of this town with Blaise. There was nowhere else to go and I felt a great urge to stay here forever," Draco whispers, "You know I would _never _want to hurt you, Harry."

Harry cautiously scoots closer to the bed, feeling his trust slowly seep back in at the sight of Draco's pleading eyes.

"Where did you come from, Harry?"

Harry looks up from his seat on the floor back up to Draco's face. The pain of his scar has dulled considerably and the white light from the sun outside is comforting.

"I think I came from the Light, too. But no one can be sure if Blaise did."

Draco grasps his hand and sighs tiredly.

"No more talk of that today, please. It pains me."

Harry agrees with a nod. Not really thinking, he gently clambers up onto the small bed with Draco, lying the most respectful distance he can from the other man. Draco squeezes his hand and Harry grins back. It is not long before they fall asleep. Both do not catch a shock of red hair bolting from the doorway at the end of their conversation.

* * *

When Harry awakes, it is the following morning already. Draco is still curled up contentedly at the other end of the bed. Harry thinks that perhaps he can stay in bed till the other man wakes, but he hears a loud bustle from the living room below and decides against it. Running a hand through his hair to flatten it, he quickly marks the past days and dates on his book and scrambles down to find out what the fuss is about.

He sees Hermione and Ron discussing something intently with Ginny. The three whip around when he clears his throat to announce his presence, Hermione scowling obviously.

"Harry, awake finally? Honestly I would have thought that it would be polite to tell Ron and I if you weren't coming for lunch yesterday! And skiving off your shop? You know it isn't favourable to break routines around here."

Harry nods nonchalantly and tries his best to put on a look of repentance. Surprisingly that seems to soothe Hermione's ruffled feathers considerably.

"So what's all this noise about?" he asks curiously.

Ginny gives him an odd look but Ron and Hermione's faces remain largely impassive.

"Well, y'know those cracks that have been appearing around on the ground? The townspeople, us included, have decided to meet tonight at the hall to discuss what's happening. We three were just talking about some possible reasons. Sorry about that, I didn't realise that our voices were _that_ loud," Ron says, scratching the back of his head a little bashfully. He turns back to Hermione to say, "Really though, I think it's probably just all this hot sun. Man, if I were any less hydrated I'd be splitting apart like the town too."

Hermione, Ginny and Harry all glare at him simultaneously for belittling the matter. Ron raises his hands up in the air, as if to proclaim, "_Heard you all, don't lecture me again_."

"Well, let's go for lunch then. I'm rather hungry," Hermione ushers them to the door. Harry almost makes to leave but suddenly remembers that Draco is still upstairs.

"Um, ah, you guys just go ahead, I'm heading back up again for today," he says quickly as he strides back up the stairs, anxious to see Draco.

"Why's Draco up there and living in _our _house, Harry?" Ginny questions quietly, but he hears an angry undertone in her voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ron lift an eyebrow and Hermione look particularly curious.

He needn't feel obliged to answer to anyone, he thinks. So he just shrugs and bounds up the remaining steps back into his room. He opens and shuts the door behind him as silently as he can; his eyes appreciatively raking over Draco's waking form.

"I thought you were gone for the day," Draco murmurs, pouting in jest.

"Would never do that to you," Harry breathes, watching the sunlight play itself over Draco's face. Unable to help himself, he walks over and gathers all of Draco into a hug. He is pleased to find that Draco is warm all over. It is comforting and he presses his chest against Draco's to allow him to feel the way his heart is racing.

His own heart misses a beat though, when he realises that Draco's is also thrumming the same furious pattern against his ribs.

* * *

Harry holds his hand out of the window to check the temperature when night has completely blanketed the town. The previous nights had been warm and humid, but today is strangely windy and cold. He pulls his only jacket over Draco's thin form, opting for a simple sweater for himself. They walk together in darkness to the town hall.

The hall is brightly lit and brimming with residents by the time they enter. Harry takes a seat behind the town's resident florist Neville Longbottom, all the way at the back of the hall. Draco quickly sits himself next to Harry too, anxiously craning his neck. Harry figures, with a touch of jealousy, that he is looking out for Blaise. Draco settles back into the shadows with a disappointed sigh once Hermione clears her throat from the podium, commanding attention. Ron stands behind her, fidgeting in discomfort from being part of the centre of attention.

"Now as we all know, we are here today to discuss the very troubling issue of the cracks appearing around our town," Hermione speaks loudly over the still bubbling conversation under her, "If _anyone_ has even the slightest clue as to what has been happening, now would be a good time to inform us all. This is no joking matter and it requires immediate action; it has come to my attention that the residence of Blaise and Draco fell apart last night."

Draco stiffens considerably next to Harry, making a soft whimpering sound that is almost immediately drowned out by the spike in discussion volume.

"Well, I'll say that this just looks like a serious case of vandalism we have here, eh?" a man Harry thinks is called Seamus hollers out with a strong accent.

"That doesn't make sense, we've been living here for so long and no such nonsense has happened," a woman called Hannah replies, crossing her arms as she stands.

"Maybe the architecture isn't good enough. We've had awfully strange weather – perhaps we just have to rebuild some areas of the town," Neville suggests calmly. Ron signals from behind the podium in approval, mouthing to Hermione "_I told you that was it_". Harry can see Hermione purse her lips as she mulls over the idea seriously.

…until Ginny stands up from the crowd and loudly yells, "What Hannah said – this has never happened before; never happened at least, until Blaise and Draco arrived."

Hermione breaks out of her pondering immediately, staring at Ginny with her strange look. The murmuring escalates vastly and people in the crowd begin swirling around, looking for Blaise and locking eyes with Draco accusingly. Harry feels his blood run cold with fright as he senses Draco shrinking next to him.

"Let's not be so fast to accuse specific people, shall we?" Harry snaps, moving forward as if to shield Draco despite his fear.

"And I would even dare to suggest that Blaise and Draco have some sort of…_dark_ magical ability to orchestrate many things besides the town's falling apart," Ginny breathes dramatically as she recklessly plows on, pointing right at Harry, "Perhaps even _addle_ the minds of people, like Harry over there."

"Well then _why_ would they choose to demolish their own house?" Harry laughs angrily. He needs desperately to turn the tide of favour back to his and Draco's side. He can see the crowd still tittering between each other as they watch the exchange expectantly.

"Maybe it's a premonition of things to come," Ginny says viciously, eyes widening.

The crowd explodes in fear and a few people look like they are headed straight for Draco. Panicked, Harry tries to think of a rebuttal as he feels Draco scramble completely behind him. Hermione, who has been uneasily watching the mass of people buzz chaotically, chooses to quickly close the session. Her fist bangs thrice on the podium and she shouts, "Dismissed! Dismissed for now!"

Harry doesn't wait. He lugs Draco out of the hall and both of them sprint through the cold dark night to the ruins of Draco's house.

* * *

Blaise is camped out behind the largest standing piece of wall left of his place, his and Draco's possessions stuffed hastily into cardboard boxes scattered around him. A coat lies haphazardly across his rapidly heaving chest. He groans in pain as Draco squeaks and bundles him up for a tight hug.

"I was so worried that you weren't in, y'know," Blaise breathes as Draco emits a cracked sob, "But it looks like I should have been worried for myself instead." He laughs uneasily as Draco muffles another sob into his coat. Harry feels out of place and more than a little guilty for forcefully taking Draco away from Blaise the previous day. Yet, he thinks, he still hasn't gotten the whole picture from the both of them. He still understands his old magic-less and cracks-less life better than this one where mere words about magic and darkness can cut holes through concrete.

But then again (he glances over his shoulder back to the suddenly hostile looking street), he doesn't think he has anywhere else to go since he has openly chosen to side with Draco.

When he turns back, he sees Draco urgently recounting to Blaise the abrupt wave of hostility that has swept across the town. Blaise startles and struggles to stand, hissing something about them having to leave now. Pushing the clearly injured Blaise back down onto the ground, Draco looks at Harry helplessly.

"I think we need to rest, it's late," Harry says softly, mind still whirring in confusion, "We'll figure out what to do tomorrow. You're not going to get anywhere far tonight with that leg either, Blaise."

He can feel Blaise's scowl through the darkness, but Draco's agreement with his words is enough to anchor the three of them in this sorry site for the night.

The air is very, _very_ cold now. This is definitely not a night of the summer. Harry dreads to find what he will wake up to tomorrow, but he steels himself and covers the three of them warmly with the thicker clothes from the boxes. He thinks he hears Blaise mutter a grudging thanks and he is slightly comforted by Draco's gentle warmth as the blonde lay silently between the two.

However much he tries though, he can't shake the upsetting feeling brewing in his heart that the world he knows will be gone the next time he opens his eyes.

He sleeps dreamlessly tonight.


	3. Out Beyond the Horizon

A/N: Writing in present tense is a bad idea. Hope you enjoy the chapter nonetheless!

* * *

Harry awakes to a sky with the sun still in it the next day. He blinks a few times and grins in relief at the familiar light on his face. Sweeping his fringe out of his eyes, he places his glasses back on himself and examines the landscape.

And the relief in him bubbles up and evaporates away.

It is autumn, at least two months too early.

Dead leaves litter their bodies and he can feel a strong wind brewing in the distance. All of the grass is dead and there isn't a speck of green as far as he can see. The bare trees loom tall and cast menacing shadows over their area.

His heart lurches and he quickly places a hand on Draco's chest to check that the man is still alive. He thankfully still is. Both his companions are still sleeping peacefully in place, unaware of the beginning of death around them. Looking toward the town, he realises that the cracks on the road have become much larger; some of them even appear too large to cross safely without falling through.

The town as a whole appears as dead as the grass the three of them lay upon. He stares silently at the fragmented buildings, considering checking on his friends to see if they were alright and possibly to explain last night. The worry that Blaise might attack Draco in his absence nibbles at him, but Harry decides to hurry back to town to do a quick check on the state of affairs. He has to find out how much has changed overnight.

He takes one last uncomfortable glance at Blaise sleeping next to Draco before quietly getting up. Dusting broken leaves off a random large coat, he strides swiftly back, cheeks colourless and fingers cold from fear.

* * *

"Something's definitely up with Draco and Blaise," he hears Ginny's loud and cold voice ring from across the cracked road. Harry immediately hides himself behind what used to be a whole pillar and warily watches the three of them discuss over breakfast at a crumbling café.

"So let me get this straight Gin, you're suggesting that we all lead a witch-hunt for the two of them? And get rid of them, ah, _permanently?" _Ron scratches his head as he looks hesitatingly between Hermione and Ginny, "What about Harry, though? He's with them and I don't think you'd want him to get hurt."

Harry sees Ginny falter at the mention of his name. She looks back down at her chipped teacup, running her fingers over its porcelain rim. But Hermione shares none of her hesitation; her jaw is set and she looks ready to fix things for the collective good of the town.

"Let's go start the hunt."

Harry scrambles back and away from his friends for what feels like the millionth time.

* * *

When he reaches the spot where he had left Draco and Blaise, Harry sees –with more than a touch of jealousy- both of them joking rather jovially while sharing a pile of coats.

"We have to leave now, Draco," he says piercingly, placing a firm hand on the blond's shoulder. Both of them look up cautiously at him, seeming to understand the implications of his words.

"They're coming to kill us," he hisses the obvious anyway, jerking Draco on his feet and toward him.

"Well, then just say so. No surprise there, seeing how early autumn came," Blaise mumbles irritably as he fumbles clumsily on the ground, trying to get himself to stand despite his leg. Draco pulls himself free from Harry's grasp and holds his friend securely up.

"He's not coming with us," Harry snarls, ready to wrest the two apart. Blaise's face remains impassive but Draco looks at him, confused.

"What?" Draco whispers, sounding a little hurt.

"We don't know what he is or what he's capable of. Besides, he'll probably just slow us down," Harry replies defiantly, crossing his arms as he locks a burning gaze upon Blaise.

"Harry, please," Draco pleads helplessly, "We don't have the time to argue about this now!"

"That's why I am asking you to let go of him and leave with me _now_."

"If you won't trust him, at least trust me, Harry," Draco whimpers, stumbling a little as Blaise's heavy and unsteady weight unsettles his hold, "I'll explain everything we know when we get to a safe place. I promise you that."

Harry knows, with a defeating crunch in his heart, that Draco will not leave without Blaise for now. After an exchange of a few heated words, he finds himself packing possessions enough for three people fervently into bags, under the hopeful gaze of bright grey eyes and dulled black ones.

* * *

They walk with great difficulty to the furthest outskirts of town, Harry constantly looking over his shoulder in worry and guilt. He has never been so far from his house and pretty much had never wondered once about what lay outside his street. He simply assumed before (rather foolishly now he thinks about it) that the street stretches on forever.

Standing in front of the huge forest now, it is clear that it doesn't.

The forest is brown from autumn as well, but the light that blesses the town doesn't shine into it. Past the immediate area at their feet, Harry can't see further into the forest and he isn't really sure that he wants to proceed. Darkness seems to emit from the heart of it and he can hear loud rustlings from within every now and then. The other two are especially uncertain as well as they shuffle around in their spot.

The three of them dawdle outside uncomfortably for a bit.

"In, I suppose," Blaise finally grunts however, obviously needing them to find a place to settle for the day. Draco yelps softly as Blaise wobbles precariously, his hurt leg ready to give way. Harry steals a glance at the sweating and tired blond and feels his heart skip again. Gritting his teeth, he takes over the grueling task of supporting the injured man from a very grateful Draco. Draco slings the considerably lighter backpack readily over his aching shoulders and smiles softly at Harry. Harry bows his head in return and does his best to calm his rippling and conflicting emotions.

He then leads them all into the darkness of the dying forest.

Most of the light disappears from behind them instantly. The three of them are plunged into almost complete darkness and are set on paths that are rocky and which are covered by leaves that crumble away from the lightest touch. And the sickening feeling of loss from last night returns to loom over Harry's mind, when he, looking at his surroundings, realises with a dull pang that what he once knew has certainly and truly ended.

* * *

They set up camp after another tiresome half hour's trek in the forest. The walk had been directionless and they had simply kept moving forward, changing direction only if vegetation got in their way.

With sweat running down his back, Harry makes a small clearing for Draco and Blaise to sit on before unpacking food for lunch. He hands a buttered toast to Draco who accepts it with a gracious smile. From the meager light, he can see Blaise glance hungrily at the bread before turning resolutely away, too arrogant to request for one too. Harry is tempted to let the injured man starve but he butters a toast for him anyway, shoving it into the surprised man's hands.

Harry then finally hungrily feeds on his own slice, too starved to strike conversation in the tense atmosphere. After the three are done, they fiddle self-consciously with their coats, picking twigs off them and wrapping themselves with them. Harry wonders if Draco is going to speak up about what has been happening now, but the blonde's head remains bowed impassively toward his hands.

Blaise ends up being the one to break the silence again.

"Po-Harry, let me show you something."

Harry immediately jolts into full awareness.

"What is it?" he questions very warily. He can hear Draco bristle against the dry ground.

"Blaise? Don't try anything funny now!" Draco whispers angrily, "I'll explain everything to Harry first!"

But Harry is on his feet by then, scrambling and fisting his hands roughly into the collar of Blaise's shirt.

"What is _it_?" he repeats himself slowly with a low dangerous voice, breathing heavily.

"_Lumos_," Blaise grins crookedly.

A ball of light flares into existence in the man's palm and a wind suddenly whips furiously around the forest, setting all the leaves into a hurried rustle. The ground then tremors a little, as if quaking in fear at what Blaise has done. Harry stares at the ball of light for a split-second in wide-eyed shock before landing a furious punch on Blaise's face. The light dissipates as Blaise falls back, groaning loudly in pain.

"_I am going to kill you, you piece of –_"Harry yells, his mind sick with worry and fear of the _magic_ he has just seen.

_How can Blaise just manipulate Light's existence so easily?_

_What is he?!_

He lunges mercilessly toward Blaise, who cries out sharply in overwhelming pain as Harry lands on his broken leg with a sickeningly heavy crunch. Draco shrieks in panic as he latches on to Harry, desperately trying to wrest him free from his injured friend.

"Harry! Harry, let go, please! Look at me for a moment!" Draco begs frantically, a tear sliding down his pale cheeks as his panic rises with every blow Harry throws at his broken friend.

"_What! What is it?" _Harry whips around and shouts at Draco, infinitely more confused and frustrated than he can ever recall. His shoulders are squared, his stance tense and ready to attack.

"W-we all have the ability to do it. I-it's in all of us, because w-we were all wizards once," Draco stammers, backing away at the sight of a very menacing Harry, "You can too. It's not something to be feared, but f-for some reason the environment here fears it. W-we came from a place that didn't; w-where it was something to be p-proud of-"

Harry's mind spins at the ludicrous tale but he allows the tearing Draco to continue. He shifts closer toward the blond, his fists still balled and ready to confront.

"-B-Blaise said we all f-fought in a wizarding war. T-then the elders t-thought we were too broken mentally to function s-so they sent us here to rest. No magic, no strange o-occurrences until we were all 'normal' and 'stable'. We w-were the last two that they deemed in n-need of this program. The dimensional portal was about to close by then though, so t-they didn't successfully wipe Blaise's mind clean before the p-portal took him, that's why he _knows_. I was s-sent before him so my memory of the p-past was w-wiped partially, but I still recall f-fragments."

More dead leaves fall upon the floor. Harry thinks he hears Blaise groan in pain at the rough sensation of falling leaves rubbing on his cut and broken leg but he keeps his attention on Draco.

"If they knew you two aren't…_clean_, then why haven't these so-called _elders_ come here to take you two away?" Harry questions softly, still very on guard.

"Because the p-portal between our two dimensions doesn't o-open till…I think Blaise s-said it was e-every five years. They have no safe way of coming here…at least they h-haven't found a quick alternative route between o-our lands when we left."

"Show me," Harry says testily, stepping toward Draco who shrinks into Harry's looming black shadow, as if hoping to melt away, "Show me you can do it, too."

The trees around them seem to rustle in anxiety again. Harry dimly wonders what is happening to the town now, if it has all collapsed into a black abyss.

"_Lumos_," Draco gasps nervously, hands uncertainly outstretched toward Harry.

The same ball of light grows and glows in his palms, illuminating his tear-streaked face and Harry's shocked green eyes. Harry feels his lips go dry and his stomach churns uneasily. He hears a distant tree collapse loudly onto the forest floor.

"How do I know this is not a trick?" he cries out in distress, unable to tear his eyes away from the beautiful warm light cupped by Draco's hands.

"Believe me, Harry!" Draco whispers with a little more confidence than before, admiring the shimmering light in his palms with his wet eyes, "This is what we _are_!"

The whole forest is creaking now and Harry feels like vomiting.

"How do I know this is not an infection from you and Blaise, how do I, how do I-"Harry finally pulls himself away from that alluring light and looks helplessly around the dying forest, mumbling crazily like a mad man.

"Say it too, Harry, just try," Draco follows his unsteady pacing, still holding onto the ball of light dearly, "T-This is the essence of our identities!"

Draco skips to the area in front of Harry, facing him with an unreadable expression, eyes now glimmering and bright with fascination.

"And after all, even if this really were an infection from us; you know too much to be pure again…if you want to think about it that way," he mutters carefully. Harry howls at those words, howls in anger at a normal life lost and feels sick, sick darkness encroaching upon him. Light-headed and giddy, he drops to the forest ground, fists scraping callously across the brown and broken leaves.

"Though this really is _not _an infection," Draco squats down, staring at him, "You've trusted me enough to defend me this far; take this as repayment – that I'm helping you rediscover your power and who you really are. You were our _saviour_."

Harry feels cold tears leak out of his eyes as he looks back at those inquisitive grey eyes. His feelings reel in his heart confusedly.

Does he really have a choice anymore? He doesn't have friends to return to now and here- here lies the promise of creating warm Light again. Possibly more.

The hollow emotion of regret over his choices starts to seep over his body again. He decides to act before it completely paralyses him with fear.

"_L-Lumos_!" he mutters, holding a shaking hand toward an anticipating Draco.

A ball of light sparks into existence on his hand, brightening the area around them even more. The wind around the forest howls in agitation and he's sure that more trees have collapsed and the town is entirely screwed over by now but he can't even see those things because he feels-

He feels like he's _found_ himself.

There is no darkness in his heart, only light and more growing light. He feels a crack in the walls of his mind as realisation slowly seeps in and yes, one of the first things he remembers is that strange thing Blaise calls a surname; he isn't just Harry, he is Harry _Potter_.

Draco beams giddily at him and he smiles back, starry-eyed and warmed by the beautiful light sitting comfortingly in the palm of his hand.

_This has to be right._

* * *

"So why don't you do something about your broken leg?" Harry asks Blaise rather insensitively before their sleep.

"Was never experienced enough to control my magic for delicate surgeries," the man says after some contemplation, turning uncomfortably away to face the other direction, "Nobody comes close to the saviour, after all."

"Well then just tell me-"

"You're out of practice, I don't want your wild uncontrolled magic running through my body," Blaise snaps tiredly, "Just let me sleep and I'll be fine tomorrow. Stop trying to make up for the beating up I didn't deserve, _Potter_."

Harry huffs as he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of guilt that lingers despite Blaise's words. How could he have known better? Even now, he hasn't gotten the whole tale or all his memories.

He snorts angrily to the cold forest. Draco pats his arm gently and curls toward him. That is comforting, at least.

* * *

Harry dreams of a strange castle and of Ron and Hermione and of classes and of-

_Flying_.

Exhilaration rushes through his veins as he twists and turns his broomstick around a clear cyan sky. He sees Draco smirk mischievously from his own broom across the green pitch and he swoons a little at that expression, though it is unfamiliar. His blonde hair glints sharply in the white sun as he speeds downward.

A tiny golden ball flits erratically around the area Draco is headed toward. Somehow, Harry knows what he's supposed to do as his reflexes kick in without thought.

_Need to catch it, need to catch it-!_

Harry laughs as he hears Draco yell in disappointment when his broom overtakes the blond's. They bump roughly against each other, trying to throw the other off the course from the golden ball as they go further and further down toward the ground-

Toward the open mouths of ghastly creatures swathed in black with no eyes and certainly with no heart. They reach out toward him and Draco, calling silently out to their plummeting prey. There is nothing but coldness emitting from them and Harry cries out in discomfort. His senses are overwhelmed and all he can hear are a woman's sharp screams and green light- green light and a lot of blood.

He hears Draco cry out in pain and that jars his senses back. When he turns around, he sees the blond's broken body lying on the pitch, tens of those creatures swarming hungrily toward it. The blond is still conscious though paralysed. His eyes take in the creatures moving in to feast on him with a silent terror. His white body is slowly covered and hidden away by masses of black and Harry is sure that if Draco still could, he would be shrieking again and again in animistic fear.

_Can't lose him like this- need to do something-_

His mind swirls agitatedly as he holds a hand out. The creatures completely disregard Harry's existence as they choose to attack his immobile companion first.

_Stop!_ _STOP! GET AWAY FROM HIM-_

* * *

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" Harry bellows, his voice echoing loudly around him.

As soon as those words are out of his mouth, a massive ball of light flies out from his outstretched hand. It takes the shape of a huge male deer which gallops protectively in circles around the three before heading into the dark forest and disappearing. The trees that are touched by its shimmering light wilt and bend over like mere stalks.

Harry breathes rapidly, shocked at what he had just…just _cast_.

Blaise and Draco are awoken by his yell and they too, look toward the direction of where the deer had gone to in utter enthrallment.

The deer spell thing, Harry notes, was never taught to him by the other two. It came from within him.

He flops back to the ground, sweat dripping from his forehead. He unconsciously presses a hand to the lightning scar on his forehead as he thinks about it and his dream.

When he closes his eyes now, it is not with dread that he falls asleep; it is with the hope that his dreams will show him the answers to the questions he now holds about the world which he appears to have left behind.


	4. All Our Tomorrows

A/N: Why is the story rated as such? Next chapter, perhaps. Thanks for reading!

* * *

When Harry wakes up the following morning, the sky is white again – but it is not the white of searing summer heat.

It is snowing.

He blinks a few times before gasping from the piercing sensation of cold on his face. Jerking ungracefully forward, he turns to check on Draco and Blaise (both who seem to have a knack for sleeping really well in adverse conditions). Remembering Blaise's broken leg, he figures he should wake them so they can get him to a warmer place to rest.

He edges himself closer to Draco first, head still spinning from the revelations the blond had showed him last night. In all this new surrealism, he is glad that Draco is clothed in black because his white face and hair blends in perfectly with the snow around them. He feels his heart uncomfortably thrum against his ribs again as he cautiously places a hand on Draco's shoulder to ascertain his existence.

Grey eyes immediately flicker open to stare back at him. Thin lips curve into a mischievous grin and Harry smiles cheerily back. Draco pulls himself to a sitting position and Harry is slightly pleased to find a faint blush spread across Draco's pale face as the other man moves in closer for warmth.

"When you two are done flirting, let me know," he hears Blaise drawl from behind Draco.

Draco laughs softly in embarrassment. Harry feels his insides tingle gloriously with warmth at that sound and tightens his grip on Draco's shoulder to reaffirm again that he is real.

* * *

An hour later the mood is far more solemn. The three of them find themselves tense and huddled in a small circle, coats thrown over their backs.

Draco and Harry had earlier tried to get Blaise to walk with them to a better area, but he had not even been able to stand. His broken and cut leg, left carelessly exposed last night, is now completely incapacitated by the unforgiving cold. Harry recalls seeing a light snuffed out behind the man's eyes when he fell back to the ground for the sixth time. Somehow, he is able to recognise that look as an acceptance of a soon death.

However, as much as Harry sympathises and feels guilty for being the partial cause of Blaise's paralysis, he still finds himself growing thin on patience with every useless complaint the man produces. Irrationally, he also finds himself getting angry with Blaise for diminishing his and Draco's survival chances. Because the two of them (or Draco, largely) have chosen to stay with him, they cannot use any sort of magic as the effects would quickly draw the attention of the hunting townsfolk.

"This is not good," Blaise laments for what has to be the tenth time in half an hour. Harry is wholly irritated by now by Blaise's repeating of the obvious. But he bites his tongue; squabbling is as useless as complaining with no action when facing a dead-end.

Harry resigns himself to scraping his hands against the snow and pressing the caught snow angrily into his palms. Draco watches silently, his breath coming out in small puffs.

"It should never snow in July," Blaise mumbles again, distraught playing over his face. His nose looks like it's freezing off, and he is clearly suffering the most out of the three of them.

"Well, of course it shouldn't. Any more enlightening bits of advice you have to offer, Blaise?" Harry snaps finally.

Blaise glares at him, but his mouth is sewn shut. Draco sniffs a little too loudly.

"I'll go make lunch," Harry mumbles quietly, shifting away with his brows knit.

* * *

Harry sits back down with a sigh, grudgingly handing out the food rations. The three of them have barely taken a bite into their stale sandwiches when the bushes around them suddenly burst into flames.

* * *

Harry and Draco make the mistake of hurriedly scrambling to grab their possessions and covering Blaise. Their loud scuffling of the thick snow does not go unheard by the townspeople.

_"They're here!" _

Harry hears a whoosh of torches as more bushes are set alight. The flames quickly encircle them, forming a ring of fire. Draco shrieks an ear-splitting scream of fear as he scrambles to pull with Blaise away from the encroaching fire lapping at his feet.

"_Let them burn!_"

Harry staggers back from the growing mob chant sounding from the other side of the fire, swiveling around like a trapped animal. His pulse is racing and he feels something _big_ stirring within himself.

"_Harry! Harry, what are you doing? Come here and help me-!"_

He thinks he hears a high male voice screaming for him behind him, but his world is spinning and he can't see clearly enough to locate him. His vision is turning white and he falls back onto the unforgiving snow, unconsciously grimacing as the cold nips away at his hands.

_"Harry! Help me, please!_"

He scrambles back onto his feet, wobbly, trying to walk toward the source of that voice. He collapses after a few steps. When he looks up, he narrowly manages to dart his face out of the fire in front of him – and that rush of adrenaline is more than enough to trigger off the magical sensation bubbling within him from before.

"_AGUAMENTI!"_

His surprisingly clear voice echoes throughout the air as a huge gush of water rushes out from the space around him. The waves of water crush the fire in front of him, ending it with a furious sizzle. The snow pelts down even more fervently from the sky and he hears a cry of pain from one of the townspeople as nearby trees begin disintegrating and falling.

"_Just rush in and attack the lot of them!"_

He recognises that, with a crushing feeling, as the voice of Hermione. But he has no time for tears as a glint of silver shines from the corner of his eye. Without thinking, he whips around and holds out his hand again and yells the words of spells he can't remember learning.

"_Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Protego-"_

The ball of light in the palm of his hand flits quickly through colours with every new spell. He sees sharp knives and other large household weapons fly off into the distance, some cutting human flesh and tearing limbs callously as they do. Many of the townspeople have started screaming in fear. Some of those in the frontline desperately try to dart back into the safety of the back of the herd; a bad move as more and more of the forest is falling apart with every spell Harry casts. He hears the thud of bodies as they are entangled in vines, drowned in the rapidly piling snow and crushed underneath whole trees.

Amidst all the chaos, the townspeople struggle terribly in regrouping. Harry takes the chance to haul a half-filled bag and scramble back to Draco, who is still clinging onto a partially burned Blaise. The smell of charred flesh, especially at Blaise's legs, is strong. Harry can see the red muscle in some parts where the skin has completely twisted up and dropped off. Blaise is gasping in pain and half-conscious from the severe burning and the feeling of snow covering and biting at more and more of his exposed flesh.

"Quickly…go already-" Blaise hisses furiously, his eyelids flickering shut. His lips are blue and his expression reads of nothing but severe pain.

"_No-!_" Draco whimpers uselessly, trying to pull him back into a sitting position on his lap. Harry chances a glance over his shoulder and he can see a large shadowy group amassing from the distance away, having retrieved their weapons. The snowstorm swirls unforgiving around them.

"We don't have time, we _have_ to leave now, Draco," Harry says, his heart wrenching in guilt again. He tears his eyes away from Blaise's shivering torn body and stands. Hesitatingly, he jogs a few steps down the path away to make his point. Draco does not look up, his eyes still fixated on his dying friend.

Harry is furious and finds his patience running low again. He half contemplates leaving Draco to just…just _die_ that with that friend of his- he doesn't need to be whinging after a blond _boy_ who doesn't have any sort of survival instinct or tact-

The furious yell of the mob slaps him out of his reverie and again he finds himself snatching a shell-shocked Draco away from Blaise. Harry hurls Draco roughly behind him and out of his guilt decides to defend Blaise for as long as possible. He chants spell after spell, hoping _terribly_ to find one that could _kill_ – but nothing truly harmful ever shoots out of his hands.

He is able to hold back the first flood of townspeople, but soon they are back in almost full strength. Even those missing a limb or hand, or gashed horrendously at the head, are still doggedly moving toward Harry despite their injuries. If the situation weren't so life-threatening, Harry would have laughed at the scene of zombie lookalikes shuffling through a blizzard, a scene which looks straight out of one of the games in his old shop.

"_Just fuck off, Potter!"_ Blaise wheezes from beneath him, with what must be the last of his strength. The townspeople are managing to dodge some of his attacks. Hermione, the lead of the whole raid, looks like a complete animal as she lashes out furiously toward Harry with a butcher's knife, drawing a deep gash into his right arm. Harry stumbles back in shock and pain, Draco catching him in the nick of time.

"_GO!" _Blaise yells, muffled quickly as the angry mob swarms over his deformed body. There is no resistance from Draco as Harry grabs him with his good arm and forces the both of them into a mad sprint further and further into the snowing forest.

Harry is sickened every time he sees his blood smear against his shirt or land on the white ground. But they never stop until they find a new area with still thick vegetation, an area that looks suspiciously like the literal end of this world.

Draco is panting erratically from their run and crying again as he aimlessly dabs at Harry's arm with a scrap shirt from the bag they managed to bring. Harry simply hangs his head and tries to suppress his nausea and his desire to just cast all the damn spells he can think of to end this world and their misery.

"_He's dead! I delivered the last stroke!"_

Ron's voice. The crowd cheers. The two of them have left the townspeople far behind but the forest is so silent now the exclamations of joy are heard loud and clear. Harry feels his vision whir again, and Draco's movements against his arms pause.

Harry, despite his empty stomach, vomits onto the area next to Draco. Some of his bile splatters onto Draco's pants, but the blond continues sitting there, not shrinking away at all. Harry, shaking, presses both his hands onto the cold ground and forces himself to look up at Draco.

Draco is staring off to the space next to Harry with a most distant look. His tears have frozen on his white cheeks and Harry thinks he sees the black clouds of hollowed and helpless despair grow in those shining grey eyes.

Harry allows himself to collapse onto the snow. His breath fogs up his glasses and he can feel the remnants of some puke sliding down his chin and neck, staining his shirt. He doesn't even know what to feel now- if he should feel at all.

How does one prepare to face an inevitably soon and painful death?

Maybe Blaise was the best of the whole lot of them. At least he was never cowardly about dying; even in his last several painful days of lumbering around, he never shirked away from his clearly imminent death.

_Saviour? Me?_

Harry has to fight hard to bite back a bitter laugh, lest they be heard.

So he simply lets the tears slide over his frosted cheeks. He mourns hard and he isn't even sure what exactly he is mourning for anymore. He is vaguely aware of his blood pooling into the snow, and of Draco getting up to go somewhere. He wants to call out to the blond, to ask him to come back, but his blood loss is draining his mind away. His world eventually saps away into blackness, and all he remembers thinking at the very end of his consciousness is that Draco is still not back by his side.


End file.
